Thursday, July 24, 2014

I continue to read books devoted to the color blue. William Gass's essay On Being Blue: A Philosophical Inquiry, covers the topic tangentially as well as in lists disguised as paragraphs. Here are some passages that linger as I start to gather the early summer's documentation and come to terms with the thousands of photographs that depict this hue.

"The common deer in its winter coat is said by hunters to be in the blue. To be in the blue is to be isolated and alone. To be sent to the blue room is to be sent to solitary, a chamber of confinement devoted to the third degree. It's to be beaten by police, or if you are a metal, heated until the more refrangible rays predominate and the ore is stained like those razor blades the sky is sometimes said to be as blue as, for example when you're suddenly adrift on a piece of cake or in a conversation feel a wind from outer space chill your teeth like a cube of ice." [page 18]

"It is the sky's pale deep endlessness, sometimes so intense at noon the brightness flakes like a fresco. Then at dusk, it is the way the color sinks among us, not like dew but setting dust or poisonous exhaust from all the life burned up while we were busy being other than ourselves. For our blues we have the azures and ceruleans, lapis lazulis, the light and dusty, the powder blues, the deeps: royal, sapphire, navy, and marine; there are the pavonian or peacock blues, the reddish blues: damson, madder and cadet, hyacinth, periwinkle, wine, wisteria and mulberry; there are the slow blues, a bit purpled or violescent, and then the green blues, too: robin's egg and eggshell blue, beryl, cobalt, glaucous blue, jouvence, turquoise, aquamarine. A nice light blue can be prepared from silver, and when burned, Prussian blue furnishes a very fine and durable brown. For our blues we have those named for nations, cities, regions: French blue, which is an artificial ultramarine, Italian, Prussian, Swiss and Brunswick blues, Chinese blue, a pigment which has a peculiar reddish-bronze cast when in lump-form and dry, in contrast to China blue which is a simple soluble dye; we have Indian blue, an indigo, Hungarian, a cobalt, the blues of Parma and Saxony, Paris, Berlin, and Dresden, those of Bremen and Antwerp, the ancient blues of Armenia and Alexandria, the latter made of copper and lime and sometimes called Egyptian, the blue of the Nile, the blue of the blue sand potters use. Are there so many states of mind and shades of feeling?" [page 59]

"So - in short - color is consciousness itself, color is feeling, and shape is the distance color goes securely, as in our life we extend ourselves through neighborhoods and hunting grounds; while form in its turn is the relation of these inhabited spaces, in or out or up or down, and thrives on the difference between kitchen and pantry. This difference, with all its sameness, is yet another quality, alive in time like the stickiness of honey or the gently rough lap of the cat, for color is connection. The deeds and sufferings of light, as Goethe says, are ultimately song and celebration... Praise is due blue, the preference of the bee." [page 73]

"Of the colors, blue and green have the greatest emotional range. Sad reds and melancholy yellows are difficult to turn up. Among the ancient elements, blue occurs everywhere: in ice and water, in the flame as purely as in the flower, overhead and inside caves, covering fruit and oozing out of clay. Although green enlivens the earth and mixes in the ocean, and we find it, copperish in fire; green air, green skies, are rare. Gray and brown are widely distributed, but there are no joyful swatches of either, or any of exuberant black, sullen pink, or acquiescent orange." [page 76]

"If color is one of the contents of the world as I have been encouraging someone - anyone - to claim, then nothing stands in the way of blue's being smelled or felt, eaten as well as heard. These comparisons are only slightly relative, only somewhat subjective. No one is going to call the sounds of the triangle brown or accuse the tympanist of playing pink." [pages 76-77]

Saturday, July 19, 2014

I have dreaded this week for two years and it proved to be as challenging as I suspected it might. An exhibition that was scheduled 22 months ago is occurring in September. For the first time Nine Fake Cakes and Nine Bodies of Water must be shipped to Idaho. Here is an excellent way to drop too much money on shipping materials, obtain a giant paper cut, and utter several strings of swear words when I discovered the dimensions of the boxes were incorrect despite my being assured the contents would fit. A few photos from the behind the scenes frustration follow:

Everyone always ask me if I took a class in box building. I would like to say "yes" [translation: this type of thing was taught in the schools I attended] but no, I had to learn it on my own with some thanks to working at Texas Gallery. It's the only time I enjoy math unless I have unexpected deposits in my checking account. Here all nine photos spread everywhere, packed with bubble, corners and foam awaiting cardboard boxes to cut down and size to my measurements.

The photo lab at school is under massive construction and I haven't been able to work as much as I would like this summer (hence my favorite printer covered with a tarp and random furniture throughout the room). This will change as soon as school starts as I have great plans to conquer a lot of unfinishedbusiness this fall, start a new series, and work on the collaboration with Brent.

Enter great swearing when I had to haul these to the UPS Store for four days while they custom build four boxes for me because nothing would work or fit in my car = a great waste of time and energy given that my lifting and walking abilities aren't up to par post surgery.

Fortunately, one piece is done. When artwork fits this well into a box I made, I can't help but feel happy. Maybe I should build boxes for the next faculty show = a great foray into sculpture = imagining that will not go over well with anyone other than me. Now I patiently wait for the phone call from the UPS Store. In the meantime, I may go look at some artwork.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

This academic publication is a collaboration between Ball State University, Concordia University and Sichuan University. It's printing was delayed due to the earthquake in China last year but it is here now.

My essay looks out of context with everything else but it's great to see in print.

My bio in Mandarin (showing my ignorance = I think). Thanks to Natalie, cake decorator extraordinaire, for including the essay in the publication.

Friday, July 11, 2014

I learn that everyone dies on Twitter. Yesterday I retweeted MOCA's "I Got Up At..." and created an homage of my own (I haven't woken up at 6:15 AM since I drove West and was operating on a different time zone = a very rare occurrence that I am up before the sunrise).

The next Postcard Collective round is fast approaching. The theme is "you are here" and it may be time for another tribute.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

At long last, I listened to my friends, my colleagues, my former professors, professional portfolio reviewers, authors, etc. A year and a half after promising myself that I would design blank promotional postcards to send as thank you notes, they arrived in the mail today. Two look great and one is more saturated that I would like but they are done!

Now to find some people to thank .... (don't worry, that shouldn't be a problem).

Saturday, July 5, 2014

I have thought about Carolina Miranda's Los Angeles Times review on Barsuglia's pool nearly everyday since hearing about it. First a little information about the work (via the above link):

"The piece... consists of a single,
diminutive swimming pool located somewhere in the southern Mojave Desert
between Joshua Tree and Apple Valley. The public is allowed to use the
pool, but in order to do so visitors need the key that unlocks it (it is
kept covered) as well as the GPS coordinates. Only once you have the
key, which is kept at the MAK Center, are you given the coordinates."

Also note that viewers are asked to bring a gallon of water to replenish it (if they find it) and it originally held 800 gallons.

Though I love the idea of creating an object one needs to search for in the desert (Michael Heizer's Double Negative for instance), I oppose this artwork being the one to find. First of all, it remains a beautiful, luxurious item in the initial photographs but over the course of time, it is impossible for it to hold these standards (a clear, full body of water devoid of insects, sand, and the presence of other people). Sand, dead scorpions floating on the surface, graffiti, attempts to break in despite not having the key - this is what I envision lying ahead for this artwork. Why? Because this is what happens when an artwork representing a luxurious item is left in the wilderness. The level of lavishness vanishes quickly.

Secondly, when I think of the pool as luxury item in the California desert, it does not look this, rather this, this, and this. None of these examples are conceivable to recreate in Barsuglia's case (albeit one exists in paintings not in real life). Barsuglia's pool is a postage size sample, asking the viewer to imagine something far greater than what is presented. It is opulent when compared to its current surroundings (considering the effort it took to create in such a remote location) but it falls short. In other words, this object is not luxurious or enticing enough to spend a day searching for it. I hate saying that because so much of my life is devoted to finding pristine bodies of water in my own artwork and it seems natural that I would gravitate to this.

I imagine a New Yorker cartoonist having a field day with a parched, crawling couple stumbling across this installation. In that respect, it becomes comical. If it is supposed to question our concept of luxury, environmental concerns, and consumption it does so but I can't help wonder what it would look like if Jeff Koons made it instead.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

We did not anticipate the sheer amount of snow and ice that had not yet melted. It was cold (highly reminiscent of the awful Midwest winter) but undeniably beautiful. I did not break out the camera (other than the iPhone photo above) until the next day when I hoped for sunshine.

Day 2 - Early morning 5 June 2014: Frigid Water (particularly if one is collecting samples and floating paper)

Clear water samples for my wooden box and some for those that requested them when I announced on twitter my excess of specimen bottles.

Victoria Glacier: wishing I could see an avalanche (from far, far away).

This is what 9 AM looks like (I have to remind myself because I seldom know).

Day 3 - Late Afternoon Saturday 7 June 2014: Ice

My quintessential Canadian photograph (and the scene I will long to return to for the rest of my life).

About Me

I am fascinated by Conceptual Art, photography and its relationship to sculpture and installation, artist’s books, appropriation, the Earthworks movement, and the narrative as found in constructed imagery. Found photographs, maps, 16th century cabinets of curiosity in the form of the wunderkammer, fake desserts, swimming pools, worn and dilapidated objects, obsessive behavior in collecting, repetition, and storytelling are all important influences. Recently, my interests have expanded to include clandestine activities through artist correspondence, interventions, and guerilla art projects. I am also a photographer of objects - the object transformed into a self-portrait, a representation of place, a distant memory, or a symbol of fixation.
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Copyright

All creative work and images by Jacinda Russell are copyrighted and any use without express written permission is strictly prohibited. Other people's images are clearly labeled with their names and/or source.